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When I went back the second time, my mom told me I was
disturbing her marriage and I needed to leave. They didn't want to talk
about what was going on and I needed to talk. I've never been able to talk
to my parents, but at that point I would have talked to anybody. I went
to stay with my dad. When I got there, they told me, "You can't go
anywhere unless you ask permission first. If you go anywhere, you have
to be home by 12:00am" I was 21 years old and my dad just couldn't
deal with me. I was not the son that he wanted. I wasn't a football player;
I don't like to cut grass; I'll go fishing and enjoy it, but after a couple
of hours I'm ready to go home. But he wanted to stay, and in the pouring
rain, in the swamp in Florida.
"Can we go home?"
"No."
"Can we go home now?"
"No."
"Okay, the four-hour rain storm is over, can we go home now?"
"No."
We were out there from five o'clock in the morning until six o'clock that
night. I fell asleep in our canoe. When I woke up I looked behind me and
there was an alligator with his mouth open right by my head. I almost shit.
I looked at my dad and he was laughing. I said, "You know what? A
motherfucker like you would think this was funny."
He said, "Watch your language."
Tear me down, yes. Fuck me up, that was a pastime. I could see talent in myself from a young age, but I couldn't do anything for living in fear. I was scared to death of my mother. Because I hated them so much I didn't even take my scholarship to the local college to sing. I wanted the hell away from them. Now I start school August 21st.
MW: How do you feel about going to school?
James: This is a big step. I can remember times there was nothing to eat, nowhere to go. By the time I got welfare, I’d been homeless for six months. I remember going into Walgreen's and stealing a pack of M&M's just to have something to eat. It's taken me a long time to get to this point where I actually want to study. My goal is to be able to come home at night and know I did something rewarding. I want to do something where I know that I'm helping other people not to go the road that I went.
I'm still going through a hard time. It's a long process learning how to love myself, and I'm my worst enemy. I don't look forward to having a big house, and I don't look forward to having no fancy car, or a white picket fence, or a fucking dog. I look forward to a day when I can wake up in the morning, and where I'm at is my home, I'm comfortable, and I have friends, and if I need to talk I can pick up the phone and call them, and they're there. I know that when I die, I don't want to be forgotten.